Act II Part 1 Chapter 3 – The One Who Always Finds Her Wanting

October of the Sainted Year (Fifth Civil Month)

----------------------------------------

Among those whose stance toward her remained ambiguous, Kirsten came to Sylia’s mind almost immediately. Nearly sixteen, the boy had been raised by some of the worst people imaginable. Dunkareh, his adoptive father, embodied everything a parent should never be. Yet Kirsten remained more attached to him and his wife, Dahia Bimal, than to his own parents. His natural father, Demezel, had long since vanished from any meaningful role dumping the responsibility of raising his son onto his brother’s lap. As for the boy’s birth mother, Galia Draviota, she had barely survived on her own, depending at times on prostitution for both safety and income.

Kirsten was a walking example of failed parenting and complete absence of common sense. He styled himself as a protector, always defending the most questionable individuals and drawing wild conclusions based on whatever delusions suited him. Few people fit the definition of “moron” more precisely. He had become a favorite project and sometimes pet of Sylia’s Division, Syl Celia. Sylia herself had little patience for him. Syl Celia, unfortunately, had an endless supply of patience.

Kirsten had long convinced himself that Sylia was nothing more than a glorified prostitute, unfit to bear the title of Saint. On the second point, Sylia didn’t entirely disagree, just not for the reasons he thought. She had never hidden what she was. A Saint, yes, but more than that, she was the Avatar of numerous Gods and Spirits.

She laughed at the memory. As if someone like Kirsten could ever grasp such a thing.

The core problem was that Kirsten believed her unworthy—not for good reasons, but because he had internalized a moral standard warped by vanity, greed, and ignorance. Several Gods had laughed over it. It was always the same with the Corrupted. They craved the best, only to reject it once they had it in front of them. Kirsten was a study in spiritual and soul rot. Sylia and Mathias had both examined his case closely. Syl Celia in particular had taken an interest in him, hoping to understand him or perhaps even teach the delusional man.

Sylia could have spared her the effort.

Kirsten was a lost cause. She’d known it for some time. What plagued him wasn’t just spiritual and soul corruption. It was Malevolence, and it ran deep.

It hadn’t been hard to diagnose.

He had never once questioned his mother’s choices, though he knew well what she’d done and still occasionally did. She slipped when she needed something. Her sister, by contrast, had always been too proud for that—happy to charm men or befriend women, but never low enough to sell herself.

In Kirsten’s twisted worldview, his mother was surviving. However, Sylia—who neither needed nor wanted any money from anyone, who funded the Slums from her own wealth—was the harlot. The woman who could purchase the entire City twice over was, in his eyes, the whore.

It was laughable.

And Dahia Bimal, the woman who used him constantly, was somehow worthy of praise. Kirsten often boasted about her so-called support, blind to or willfully ignorant of what she had really been doing all along.

Sylia had witnessed many examples of Kirsten’s foolishness over the years. In truth, she had plans for him. She intended to send him to Frieze to test a theory. Kirsten would likely be charmed instantly by such a devious individual. He was naturally drawn to all that was rotten, even though a small part of him resisted this tendency. It was that part Syl Celia wanted to save.

Sylia had to admit that Kirsten had always been entertaining. He provided endless amusement for both her and Syl Celia.

It was much like the time Count Hugder Rakulda had visited from his home Province. The man was known to come to the City seeking entertainment. He had been charmed by Kirsten’s aunt and later turned his attention to Kirsten’s mother, Galia Draviota, who had become his prostitute. Sylia was not joking when she said that. The very man who had children with Kirsten’s aunt, Hanna Carentos, was paying for the company of his children’s aunt. Some might question the man’s morals, and they wouldn’t be entirely wrong. However, the man had his reasons. It was also a form of payback. He kept the woman in check that way and provided her with resources. For men of his position, kept women were often little different from prostitutes. The only exception was that Galia never attained the status of “kept woman.”

That day, Sylia had asked for Kuschiel’s assistance since Julend was away. She was due to visit some Gentry districts for similar reasons. It was Bear Week, which held a different meaning for Saint Sylia, as the Slums residents and their neighbors had learned. That year, Sylia had chosen the North-East area of the Slums, where Galia and Hanna each kept an apartment when they were not in the Slums Fenced Area outside the City walls. This was more out of necessity, as they needed to work from there. Sylia was surprised to see that the Count had deigned to come to such a poor area, which bore no resemblance to the partially rebuilt Slums Fenced Area.

Sylia smiled as she observed the many dead bear bodies, which attracted the attention of several curious onlookers. Some of those men and women were not from the Slums; they simply walked through streets that the Slums shared with neighboring areas. It was the most intermixed district. Perhaps that was why the Count did not mind. He likely had a mistress or two in the area, in addition to his prostitute Galia. Sylia could have felt sympathy for the woman since Galia’s twin sister Stella had led her down that path.

Galia had not cut ties with Stella despite insisting she did. She was almost as hopeless as her son. However, she did possess redeeming qualities. What she did to the Count, though, had been truly rotten. Sylia did not blame the man for wanting payback. Even Hanna had yet to forgive her sister, though she placed most of the blame on their sibling Stella.

Sylia was surrounded by some of her usual crowd. A few children from the Slums looked on in obvious shock. For starters, she was skinning animals in the middle of the City, which was forbidden for prey of such size. Only small quantities of caged rabbits or chickens were allowed so that people could get fresh meat but nothing larger than that. Sylia also had many dead chickens hanging from a string in addition the bears.

Jimmy beamed. “Miss Sylia, will you make all of this into food?”

Sylia replied. “Obviously not. Some aren’t even edible for normal people. We brought them for their hides and some inedible potion ingredients. Most of the edible meat will be salted or preserved, as we usually do for this kind. You should watch and learn about it, Jimmy.”

Jimmy asked. “We still get to have some bear meat, right?”

Pullina nodded. Sylia frowned. “Yes, if you don’t disturb us too much and stay quiet.”

Jimmy nodded eagerly. “Of course. We can help. For example, that white one—it looks delicious, and the pelt seems very nice. It would make nice coats and such.”

Sylia smiled slyly. “Sorry, but that one’s not on the menu. That’s for the Nobles’ quarters. You have a good eye. I still need to extract the rest of its Magic and Mana so it can be edible for Nobles. For you, we have Guilar Bears slain by Saint Seyka in some of her lands. She told me to feed some to you kids since you helped her last time. Her sister sent Kankula Bears we can use for coats. Their meat isn’t usually eaten except by some bloodlines with extremely strong stomachs and tolerance. Maybe I can make you a white coat with the fur. I have some Magical dye.”

Jimmy rejoiced immediately. He turned to the other kids and told them how right he had been about the Ladies being nice. Kullen, who overheard, looked unhappy and crossed his arms. “Sylia, you’re over-spoiling the children. Kankula Bears are rare enough to cost more than what those children’s families eat in a year.”

Jimmy gaped. Sylia shrugged. “It’s only for some of the children’s outings to the wealthier districts. We can’t have them wearing what they usually do. Syl Celia and I promised we’d take them to watch a Magical Screening of a popular show.”

Jimmy was very excited and exchanged a gleeful look with Pullina, who smiled back.

Kullen said. “Aren’t you being cruel by letting those children see what they can’t later have? They’ll be stuck in the Slums.”

Kirsten snapped. “Enough, Kullen. You’re the cruel one. For once, she’s being kind. Don’t twist it.”

Sylia frowned and said, “I don’t know what you mean, Kullen. I will never let Pullina and Jimmy stay in the Slums. They have been more protected from the corruption, living here. At least, until now. Now, go run to your girlfriend. We’re busy.”

Kullen sniffed and quickly left, guided by an angry Bunny who practically pushed him away. One of the girls promised the outing had been crying after Kullen’s harsh words, so another Bunny comforted her.

Jimmy asked. “What are you making, Miss Sylia?”

Pullina tugged Jimmy’s sleeve. “She said we should be quiet.”

Sylia smiled. “It’s fine. I was going to explain.”

Candella Carentos, Kirsten’s cousin, approached while eating an ice pop she’d just bought from a stand taken over by Sylia’s Bunnies. Kirsten’s sister, Delicia Draviota, followed her hesitantly. She had received one as well but wasn’t sure if she should eat it since it had been a gift from one of the Bunnies.

Candella said. “What are you doing? It smells, you know. You realize Father is here and might be put off.”

Sylia replied. “We put on spells.”

Candella scoffed. “I can imagine the smell just by looking.”

Delicia stepped closer. “Candella, stop it.”

Candella snapped. “That girl is always giving herself airs. Do you know what she’s been saying about me?”

Kirsten froze, eyes darting between Sylia and Candella. “What did she say?”

Candella’s voice was sharp. “She’s been telling everyone I was a prostitute. Just because I helped you that one time. The bitch is jealous. I shouldn’t have bothered.”

Kirsten turned to Sylia, incredulous. “How could you?”

Sylia sighed. The entire scene felt like a parody of life.

Candella sneered. “This is all about Dankar, isn’t it? He showed interest in me, and it bruised your pride. You couldn’t even handle that I was with Kirsten.”

Kirsten blushed while Kuschiel shot him a dirty look.

Sylia’s tone was cool. “Why would I be? Not only of Dankar, but Kirsten? I’m not Syl Celia. I haven’t said a word about you.”

“Don’t lie!” Candella snapped. “Christine told me.”

Sylia raised an eyebrow. “Christine? Last I checked, she’s the one interested in Dankar and has been ever since she was with his cousin, Drenkel. And I doubt Dankar was ever interested in you. He was probably just taking notes especially after you posted signs advertising your escort services for Nobles. You should probably take those down before your father sees them.”

Kirsten gasped. “Candella, you haven’t taken those down?”

“I did!”

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

“Not the ones you put on Cambryl Street with Wendy.” Sylia said dryly.

“I can’t remove those. Wendy paid me to make them.”

Sylia let out another sigh. “You could have at least removed your name.”

“I don’t want to lose any opportunities.”

Kirsten looked frozen in place. Kuschiel simply smiled.

“You stand to lose more than that.” Sylia warned. “Did you know that the Dangavel neighborhood is one of your father’s favorite areas in the City? He and his friends go there often. It is near the North Gate where the foreigners gather.”

Candella gasped. “How do you even know that?”

“One of my Divisions patrols there.” Sylia replied. “We also had to retrieve a sibling of my lover from a luxury bordello-club there once. Kuschiel’s birthday party was also held nearby recently. He must have mentioned it. It was at a new club opened by the Velveteen Church’s new branch—Violenteen Velveteen. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Kuschiel enjoying so much naked flesh, bottoms, and striptease. He nearly fainted from excitement.”

Kuschiel turned crimson.

Kirsten shot him a disgusted look. “Unbelievable. You didn’t even invite us. No wonder.”

“It was a prank!” Kuschiel cried. “Julend and the others planned it after one of my friends brought it up as a joke! Do you even know what that club is really about? It’s mostly a place to pray for forgiveness!”

Kirsten turned her glare to Sylia who was now blushing and avoiding her gaze.

“So you lied.”

“Technically, she didn’t.” Kuschiel said quickly. “She’s just exploiting your weakness. Her Bunnies did a striptease and offered to let me pat their bottoms if I ever wanted a gift or weapon. Some even stripped entirely to reveal they were Wolves underneath.”

Jimmy and Pullina burst into laughter.

“As for the naked flesh,” Kuschiel continued miserably, “that was that Bunny over there. He stripped to show he was a Demon—one who deals with Death. I nearly fainted when one of them transformed completely, revealing his Grim Reaper side. It was horrifying. I had to pretend I was thrilled after patting a few Pompons and say as much during the gathering of that Sub-Church that accepted me as a follower. Now, the whole neighborhood knows me as the pervert Bunny Pompon guy.”

He groaned. “Whenever I walk through that area, even just to find some decent skewers and ale, the Bunnies spot me and run. They throw on raincoats and vanish into alleyways.”

Some of the nearby listeners glanced toward Sylia, who was merely smiling.

“I don’t even know where they come from…” Kuschiel went on. “Well, I do. They say they come from the Bunnies’ Marshmallow Church—but that name’s obviously fake. The same Bunnies open their raincoats when Master Mathias Herves walks through, do a little dance, and flash their pompon at him. They give him marshmallows and vodka.”

“No.” Sylia corrected. “If they gave him vodka, that would be another Church. The others give out only strawberry milk or coffee milk at most. Never chocolate or cocoa milk. Those belong to different Churches entirely.”

Kuschiel pursed his lips and said nothing more.

Then, after a long pause, he muttered.

“It’s because of you the neighborhood became so popular, and so many of those former clubs were closed. Cambryl Street is one of the few places still thriving, but that’s only because you left it alone. I wonder, though, how long they’ll hold out against the new Rabbit-Bunny Girl’s Club—where she pulls off her panties in the street. There’s quite a long line waiting to be admitted in that Club.”

Kirsten looked at Sylia.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Sylia said. “She’s a genderless familiar, belonging to some Celestials I befriended. Usually, she wears nothing but her fur. She puts on the panties deliberately, just to take them off before entering the club. Inside, she wears a dress. Our club has far more women than men. She tends to be a bit biased against men unless they’re called Mathias, whom she calls her girlfriend.”

“I went there last week while it was closed.” Pullina added. “She’s very kind to girls. She liked Jimmy too and said he looked as cute as a girl.”

Jimmy blushed. Kirsten grimaced, which made Sylia smile slyly. Even Kuschiel was smiling now. They both enjoyed teasing him.

“Are you making food outside?” asked Count Hugder Rakulda as he walked toward them in loose-fitting clothes that could almost pass for a Scholar’s robe in certain circles.

Sylia nodded. Candella immediately stepped back. Her father’s expression wasn’t reassuring. He had probably overheard part of their conversation. Sylia had set her up. Candella was now sure of it.

“Yes, we’re cooking right here.” Sylia said. “My granddaughter will bring more ingredients and dishes. She is supposed to help us with a few of her people.”

Jimmy frowned.

“Granddaughter?” the Count repeated.

“Yes. She’s related to Saint Seyka on her father’s side. Her name is Saynaka. She was born to my daughter Sahaya. She just turned nineteen and spent most of her time in another Time-Dimension. She recently moved to a new Enclave. Her father is Eteker Grinshma.”

The Count blinked. “Really? I know him. His family holds lands in our Province. He’s from Lemonbar, but he often stays near the border with Dorbensyl Province.”

Sylia nodded. “So I heard. I believe he was married to your sister, wasn’t he?”

“They still are, technically—at least civilly. I doubt any Church even recognize it, since they don’t live together. He only visits for the children’s sake. I had no idea he had a grown daughter. While it’s true he’s seven years older than me, most of his children are boys and still quite young.”

“Saynaka isn’t formally acknowledged as his.” Sylia said. “Her mother has strong ties to certain Churches that reject ties to lower bloodlines. Still, Saynaka was granted permission to move into a new Enclave located between Lemonbar and Dorbensyl. Her father will be allowed into the connected Half-Enclave reserved for non-Natives.”

The Count’s eyes widened. “Then we’ll be neighbors.”

“It’s farther from your lands, but I suppose so.” Sylia replied, “She’ll be doing business with the surrounding Nobles. You should speak to her directly if you want to establish a connection without going through her father.”

The Count nodded. Kirsten looked surprised. “I didn’t know you had children and grandchildren that old.”

“That’s the thing with Time-Areas. We age quickly there.” Sylia said. “I am an old lady now. I might have regressed my body for Masha’s sake but I’m still older than the Count here. Some of the youngsters seem to forget that.”

Candella shivered.

The Count gave a slight bow. “Please forgive my daughter. I’ll make certain to chastise her properly.”

Sylia nodded in acknowledgment but offered no reply.

The Count did not press her for an answer. Instead, he watched in silence as she worked alongside her Bunnies then went to stand next to Candella’s mother, Hanna, who had just joined them.

From nearby, Kuschiel looked up and called out.

“Sylia, I’ve just finished cutting the meat.”

The children stirred with excitement, clearly impressed by the generous quantity of freshly cut meat. Sylia smiled and offered him her thanks, then added. “Let’s begin with the meal’s preparation.”

Jimmy perked up. “What are you going to make?”

Sylia laughed softly. “We’ll start with something simple—cubed bear meat, pan-seared with black pepper. It’s usually served with fries or rice and some stir-fried vegetables. We can also use it to make stir-fried dishes with mushrooms or cabbage.”

Jimmy grinned. “That sounds interesting.”

Sylia nodded. “I thought so as well. That’s why I hired that chef and those cooks over there for the day. Children, feel free to go and watch them if you like.”

The group erupted in cheers, rushing toward the outdoor kitchen setup—except for Jimmy, who lingered, his gaze fixed on Sylia’s Summons.

“I’d rather watch your Summons cook.” He said. “Especially the Bunnies. They always slip in something special.”

Sylia frowned. Fortunately, most of the children had already been drawn away. However, Pullina remained seated, as did a few of her friends. They just quietly watched the Bunnies. Jimmy, too, refused to be distracted.

“Fine.” Sylia said. “But you won’t get to eat what they are preparing.”

Jimmy tilted his head. “Not even the food Pullina is watching them prepare?”

Sylia pursed her lips. “That one you can have.”

The Count, standing nearby, frowned. “So you hired top-tier chefs to cook meals for the Slums’ children.”

Sylia replied simply. “They learn from one another.”

“Thank you for bringing them.” Hanna added. “The children will be overjoyed.”

Candella shrugged. “What’s the point? They’re only making Commoner food, not anything luxurious or fit for Nobles. Sylia’s always like this, doing things that are unnecessary and disgraceful.”

Kuschiel’s expression darkened. The way the children looked at Candella wasn’t any softer.

“Apologize to Miss Sylia!” Jimmy snapped. “She’s always looking out for us! Besides, we’re Commoners. We should be eating Commoner food.”

The Count sighed and raised a hand to stop his daughter, who had moved to grab the eight-year-old. “Enough. This isn’t Commoner food. What you refer to as Noble luxurious food is actually the cuisine of the Gentry and Lower Nobility. Only the High Nobles can regularly afford such high-quality ingredients in abundance.”

Candella gasped. “That’s not true.” she muttered.

Hanna interjected, “Candella, you were never given a proper Noble’s education. This is food from the Krakow Grand Duchy where they have preserved their culinary traditions almost perfectly. I saw it myself fifteen years ago while serving in a house that hosted some of their higher Nobles.”

Candella shot her mother a venomous glare.

The Count added. “If only it were just Krakow cuisine. These recipes come from Old Irdalenvi traditions. I happen to own a culinary book passed down from my great-grandmother that mentioned those. She was passionate about collecting old books like that one.”

“Oh?” Hanna replied, surprised. “I had no idea.”

Sylia nodded. “The Count is right. Though I’ve made a few revisions.”

The Count bowed slightly, his expression apologetic. “I offer my most sincere apologies for my daughter’s behavior. I shall remove her at once. She is not presently fit for Noble company—or any company, I fear.”

Sylia replied coolly. “Myergal left his mark.”

The Count blinked. Kirsten stared at Sylia, bewildered. The name sounded familiar. Candella flushed deep crimson.

“I don’t like the name of a known criminal being associated with my daughter.” The Count said stiffly.

Candella looked like a trapped animal. Her mother stared at her in silent confusion.

Sylia continued evenly. “Then I’m sorry. She’s eight days pregnant by the man. Considering he turned into an Abominy Wolf just two days ago and went on a killing spree, I’d say she carries a significant amount of Malevolence and corruption within her. Too much, even, for the Slums—despite the special Magic Sygils we’ve placed on her to prevent contamination of her surroundings. Syl Celia and I had to add another protection this morning. Perhaps that’s why she’s irritable.”

Kirsten gasped. Kuschiel looked at Candella with something close to fear. Her mother collapsed on the floor, crying uncontrollably, while the father stood there, frozen.

“I did warn that Kullen was bad news.” Sylia said. “He keeps bad company.”

The Count closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. “How long does she have?”

“A few days here,” Sylia replied, “maybe a few weeks, if we find a cell able to hold that much Malevolence.”

The Count’s voice was low, almost broken. “Candella… why?”

“I can tell you she did it because of a cheap bracelet and some supposedly valuable necklace.” Sylia said. “I say supposedly, since it’s a counterfeit with only a few pieces of a stolen one. He was getting rid of the evidence while keeping the valuables.”

“What? No, it is genuine.” Candella protested.

The Count turned to her in horror. She refused to show the slightest remorse.

“Candella wasn’t happy with you refusing to buy her a necklace like that,” Sylia went on, “when you do for other women.”

“I don’t!” the Count snapped.

“Galia showed her the necklace you gave her four months ago.” Sylia said evenly. “She told Candella she had at least managed that much.”

The Count gasped in horror. Candella’s mother, Hanna, looked at both of them in utter confusion.

“I gave it to her as protection.” The Count said quietly. “It’s not an ornament.”

“Well,” Sylia said, “for some people, like your daughter, only the ornamental part is important. Don’t confuse her with her brother Dreis. They might be twins, but they’re complete opposites. He takes more after his mother, while your daughter is the product of your own contradictions. She might take after your mother… or your aunt, perhaps?”

The Count swallowed hard. “You called a Church or Temple to exorcise her, I presume?”

“I did,” Sylia said, “but I don’t need them to send her off for good. I could extinguish her on the spot.”

“Then… please do it. I can’t risk my other children.”

Candella shook her head. Sylia gave her a glance, then said quietly, “Well, we could give her this afternoon.”

“Please!” the Count yelled.

“Wait a second,” Hanna said. “What is this about a necklace?”

“I gave your sister a necklace to use for our children’s protection.” The Count replied then added, looking grim. “She has the skills. I didn’t think she would do something so rotten.”

Sylia sighed. “What did you expect? Do you think her so lowly that she wouldn’t mind the humiliation?”

“I didn’t think she would use my daughter like that!”

“You can only blame yourself. You walk all over people without considering the consequences. So very much like today’s Nobles. She had been seeing Myergal for years—and never stopped, even after he turned criminal and was punished.”

The Count turned to her, stunned. “What?”

Sylia smiled faintly. “Maybe I should have told you before you went to see her.”

“I went to see her because of Maryleen’s daughter.” He muttered. “My brother wants her back. Though I doubt he would now.”

“Probably not,” Sylia said. “She’s better off staying here rather than going to your mother.”

The Count looked at her. “You seem to know my mother.”

“I only know what the Spirits told me.” Sylia replied. “She killed your weakened mother in her childbed—with her own mother and sister’s help. She has always been demented. Her family’s blood is too concentrated, and her mother’s madness didn’t help. That’s why she was cursed to have her line ended.”

The Count gasped. “What?”

Sylia lowered her gaze. “I suppose some truths are better left unsaid.”